


Very Loud.

by Michaelssw0rd



Series: 30 prompts. [13]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gags, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, sliigghhht exhibitionism?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 22:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10580481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: Detective Riley follows Professor Whistler into his office for some, ahem, break time activities... of the carnal nature. That's it. That's the plot.For the Prompt: Very Loud.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xLostLenore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLostLenore/gifts).



> I have been sitting on it for months, too terrified and shy to post it. I finished writing it in DECEMBER. And I really do have to say a million thanks to Leena. She basically read it months ago and has been encouraging me to finally post it, and that it's worth posting, and just being the most supportive person EVER.
> 
> And also am so very grateful to [Sky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky) for giving me the final push, and for being a darling and volunteering for the Beta, removing my excuse of "it's not edited yet."
> 
> Here have some smut.

Sitting in one of Harold’s classes was fascinating. Doubly so when Professor Whistler’s eyes roamed the class and finally settled on him, widening fractionally. It was endlessly entertaining to see the deer in the headlights look on Finch’s face.

After class, he waited for the students to approach their teacher and ask questions, relaxing back into his seat as Finch threw him a confused look before leaving the class. John waited a little more before getting up, straightening his coat, and following him.

Entering Harold’s office, he locked the door behind him, and turned back to bestow a feral smile on the occupant sitting behind the desk. He had controlled his expressions a bit 'til now, but John knew Harold was fully aware of why he was here, and as much as he enjoyed their arrangement, Harold did not like _admitting_ to liking it.

“Professor Whistler.” He nodded, enjoying the climbing eyebrows. Harold insisted he used the alias name and not call him Finch, like he was accustomed to, but John guessed insisting didn’t mean he preferred it.

“Mr. Riley. May I ask why you are here?”

“You may.” Striding towards the desk, he smirked.

“John. What are you doing here?” His voice rose in pitch and it made the blood run hot in Reese’s veins.

“You know why I am here Harold. Do you just want me to say it? Is that it? You like to hear me speak about the filthy things I am going to do to you?”

Harold flushed, his ears becoming red, and damn if it did not make John want to devour him. “I must protest, Mr. Reese.”

“It’s Mr. Riley… remember?”

Harold swallowed, and then repeated. “I must protest, Mr. Riley?”

“Must you?” He teased, reaching Harold’s revolving chair and turning him around to face him.

When Finch did not answer for a few moments, and John took advantage of that and bent down to brush their lips together, murmuring, “You don’t want to, though. You want this.”

Harold shook his head a little in denial but gave in when Reese opened his mouth, kissing back against his better judgement.

When they separated, John was gratified to notice that Harold’s breath was heavy, “John,” his voice was flustered, “It’s hardly appropriate.”

“A professor getting blown during his lunch hour in his office? I would say it's tradition.” He leered, and then bit the red ear that has been taunting him. Harold moaned, which made Reese grin again. Time for the next bit of his plan.

“The walls are thin aren’t they?” He asked teasingly, moving back an inch, and Harold nodded, biting his lower lip. “And even with all of your restraint and self-control… you haven’t learned how to be _quiet._ ”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I take full responsibility.” He murmured, smug. He loved being the cause of Harold being noisy and uninhibited. “But it doesn’t solve our problem here. I really want to suck your cock, but I don’t think we can afford you being sacked.”

“Which is why, this is a bad idea. I get off in just a few hours.”

“Too bad, I want you to get off now.”

“Mr. Reese, I don’t…” He stopped short when he saw what John had just taken out from his pocket, his mouth open.

“See? I came prepared.” He mocked.

“John… I-I mean--.”

“Shhhh Harold. I know you can get very loud. And as much as I love it, I am going to try and enjoy you holding in the beautiful noises.” Personally, he didn’t think it would be very hard to do that.

“So… what do you think?” And then he dangled the red ball gag in front of Harold’s face. He would coax, but in the end, it was Harold’s choice and he won’t push him to do something he didn’t want. When Harold gave a brisk nod after several seconds, John’s tensed shoulders relaxed.

“You won’t regret it.” He promised, and stole a quick kiss from Harold’s lips before tenderly placing the small red ball in Harold’s mouth, pushing it to lie behind his teeth, and tying it behind his head. He moved a step back and beheld the sight in front of him. They had barely started, and Harold already looked wrecked, his face flushed, hair in disarray, and pupils blown wide.

“You alright?” He felt compelled to check, and when Harold nodded, his eyes desperate, without waiting anymore John went down on his knees.

He placed his hands on Harold’s parted thighs, and squeezed. “You look so good Harold. Downright edible.” He whispered reverently, as he moved his fingers to open the buttons on Harold’s pants- because Harold did not believe in zippers. He believed that the buttons made the lines of the suit look neater. God, he loved him, with all of his little quirks.

His restraint snapping, he bent forward and nuzzled the cloth-covered crotch in front of him, reveling in the hitched breath and the twitching of thighs that resulted in. He kept that up for a while, breathing in Harold’s scent, nudging with his nose, until he could feel that the man was completely hard. Taking mercy, he urged Harold to move up a bit, as he slowly, without wrinkling the fabric too much, inched pants and the briefs down to his mid-thigh. Again, he had to pause and watch for a few moments, his own arousal soaring.

“I can never get tired of seeing you like this. Hard, hot and needy, all because of me.” He was teasing, but they both knew he meant it. John still couldn’t believe he was allowed to have this part of Harold.

Wanting to make it last, he just breathed on the hard cock in front of his face, wet air leaving his mouth and making it twitch. He ghosted his fingertips up and down the shaft, feather light. Then, looking straight in Harold’s eyes, he stuck out his tongue and licked a stripe from the base to the tip, expecting how Harold’s arms tightened on the arm rest, his hips bucking.

He also let out a filthy moan.

“Tsk, tsk. We can’t have that, can we? What if the students hear?” John smirked as he pecked the tip of Harold’s cock. If it was possible, he flushed even more, shaking his head a bit.

“Why don’t you try pushing the gag with your tongue against your teeth, whenever you want to make a noise huh?” Reese advised, as he went back to licking stripes up Harold’s length, savoring the taste and the desperate wet noises Harold was making behind the gag, slurping around the saliva.

When he took the cockhead into his mouth, suckling lightly, Harold almost rose up from his chair, trying to get more of himself into John’s mouth, but John just moved back. “Phleez.” Harold tried to say behind the gag, but John just made shushing noises, rubbing his hands on Harold’s thighs and keeping up the light suction, alternating with broad licks just under the sensitive head. Harold tried to control his thrusts, letting out a low whine, and throwing his head back.

He moved to take more of Harold into his mouth, sinking down, down, until his nose was buried in Harold’s pubic hair. The years of drinking himself half to death had effectively killed his gag reflex and he rejoiced in the response he got when he suddenly deep throated his lover. Harold didn’t make a noise surprisingly, tensing all of his muscles for a second and then collapsing in the seat, bringing his hands to clutch at John’s hair. Ah, he had finally taken John’s advice about how to effectively use the gag.

John alternated between deep suctions, engulfing the whole hard cock into his mouth, getting Harold properly riled up and then teasing licks on the base and the head, until he calmed down a bit. Sometimes John would pull off and lap at Finch’s balls, taking his sac into his mouth and sucking gently until he got bored, and went back to repeat the whole torment. Harold was quickly reduced to the mess John relished in creating, panting hard, gasping against the gag, trying and failing to keep in the incoherent noises. His fingers were clenching and unclenching in John’s hair, indecisive between trying to push him down, and pull him up, tethering on the agonizing edge of too little and too much.

John’s blood was all concentrated south too, his own hardness aching for any kind of relief, and John pressed against it hard, just for a moment. It was going to have to wait.

This was about Harold.

Just when he thought he would finally take mercy, after endless teasing, and moved to sink down on Harold’s cock again, sucking and licking with proper intent, there was a knock on the door.

They both froze, and held their breath. John pulled back with a pop and stared at Harold who looked back with wide panicked eyes. They waited for whoever had knocked to go away on their own, but after half a minute the knock was repeated.

“Professor Whistler. Are you in there?” A female voice called from outside. “It’s your colleague, Sanders. I was wondering if I can ask you for some advice.”

Feeling devious, Reese asked in low wrecked voice, “You want to reply to her?” Still muddled from when John had been sucking his very soul out of his cock, he shook his head. Then a second later he nodded reluctantly. Reaching up, John unbuckled the strap of the gag, and Harold heaved a lungful of breath.

The knock was repeated with a curious, “Mr. Whistler?”

Harold gripped the arm rest tight, and when he called out, his voice came out steady. “Miss Sanders. I am afraid I am a little busy right now.” The composure with which he was speaking was plain insulting, so Reese felt compelled to remedy that. He reached out with his hand and rubbed his thumb, quick, quick, under the tip of Harold’s cock. The breath left his lungs in a puff, and the next sentence came out strained. “I will get back to you at the end of the next class?” Somehow, he still managed to make the sentence sound tense due to work stress, rather than like someone was sitting between his legs playing with his prick.

“Sounds good. See you then Harold.” The woman outside the door said sweetly, and John felt irrationally jealous of her using Finch’s first name. It was out of spite- because Harold was _his! –_ that he quickly moved and engulfed the entire length of Harold's cock in one go.

“Ahhhhh…” Harold moaned out, cutting the sound as fast as he could by clapping his hand against his lips.

“Did you say something?” Miss Sanders was apparently still standing outside.

“No. Thank you Miss Sanders. Good day.” Harold dismissed, his voice unsteady and quivering. John bobbed up and down, refusing to make it easy on him. A few seconds of confused silence from across the door later, there was a sound of footsteps moving away.

Without bothering to slow down, or any finesse, John brought his other hand into action, rolling and caressing Harold’s balls, while he sucked and licked and devoured the beautiful cock in front of him, hungry for every twitch of muscle, every muffled gasp. Hungry for _Harold_.

He wanted him to come. Now.

Still moving his jaw, he glanced up, and saw what a wreck his lover was, his face blotchy, his one hand moving from John’s hair to his shoulders, trying to find something to latch on to, the other stuffed against his mouth. When their eyes met, he breathed out a quiet “Please,” against his knuckles, his eyes pleading, and John moved back for just a few seconds just to say. “Yes Harold. Come. I need to see you.” Before latching back on, and using every trick he had up his sleeve to make Harold lose what little composure he had left.

Finch had been making quiet low noises ever since the removal of the gag, but they evolved into breathless whimpers of “John, John, John.” And Reese realized he was close. When he felt Finch’s thighs clench, hanging at the knife edge of the orgasm, he dipped one of the fingers of the hand playing with Harold’s scrotum down, and pressed against his hole, light but insistent.

There was an unholy grunt, hastily but poorly muffled, and he felt Finch’s cock spurting deep inside his throat. Quickly, he moved back a bit, until the tip was just resting on his tongue. John wanted to savor the taste, suckling lightly, until Harold twitched in overstimulation. Finally, finally, he let go, and moved back to rest his cheek against the teacher’s thigh, his heart beating like he had just run a marathon. His groin ached for any kind of stimulation, but he ignored it in favor of bringing down his racing heart, trying to sync it with Harold’s. He turned his face a bit and peeked at what the other was doing, and Finch’s eyes roaming on his face, his countenance vulnerable and open, melted him to the core.

“John.” He breathed out, his hand coming to rest against the detective’s cheek, and John closed his eyes, leaning in to the touch.

Later, he carefully pulled Harold’s clothes in place and stood up, ignoring his protesting knees- he wasn’t that young anymore. The professor still looked a little bit lost, so John caressed his cheek with his thumb, wiping away a stray tear that had spilled out in the passion of his orgasm. Overcome with gentleness, he bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to the forehead of the man who owned him, body and soul, and then moved down and pressed an equally chaste one against his lips, following it up with another, and another.

When he felt like Harold had gained back some of his composure, he moved back and straightened his glasses. His fingers could not stop touching Finch’s face, but he forced himself to withdraw them and step away.

“Mr. Reese,” Harold called out before he could turn.

“Hmm?” He still felt a little bit beyond words.

“You didn’t. What I mean to say is… you… can I?” John was confused until he saw Harold’s eyes glance down to where his own erection was still straining against his zipper, untouched. He looked back up at him, amused to find Finch embarrassed, and winked.

“You get off in just a few hours remember? I think I will save it. For later.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he leered as Harold flushed scarlet again. It was almost the end of the Ethics teacher’s break. He looked pointedly at the wet gag lying on the table and then back at Harold.

“Keep it around, would you? For emergencies.”

And before Harold could even begin to form a protest, he turned around, walking towards the door, his chest bursting with warmth and satisfaction.

Outside, he almost bumped into a woman, early forties, with brown hair tied in a pony and wearing formal clothes. Ah, this must be Miss Sanders from before. Reese couldn’t resist, when he saw her eyes widen as she saw him come out of Mr. Whistler’s office.

He touched the corner of his mouth with his thumb, rubbing slightly, knowing it would be swollen and obscenely red. There would be no doubt about what had been happening behind the closed door.

Smirk crawling on his face, John said, “Give him a few minutes will you? He is quite knackered.” He didn’t even let himself properly enjoy the look of mortification on the woman’s face before striding away.

John was simply making a statement.

**Author's Note:**

> *insert hiding face gif*


End file.
